


come away with me.

by falconeggs



Series: bright lights. [3]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Established Relationship, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, this is just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 12:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falconeggs/pseuds/falconeggs
Summary: Music Superstar, Patrick Brewer, goes on tour. His partner, David Rose, misses him.





	come away with me.

**Author's Note:**

> I really wasn’t expecting to write this, especially so quickly after the last part, but I love this au so so much and thought it deserved a happy ending. I barely edited this, and I’m sure there’s a million typos, but she’s up anyway. I have a few aus still floating around, so if you wanna hang or hear about them, I’m @focksii on tumblr. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as much as I have! Love you guys!

“It’s the first Monday in May, which means the social and fashion elite have gathered in New York City for the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute gala to celebrate the Institute’s newest collection, ‘Camp: Notes In Fashion’. Throughout the night, many memorable appearances were made, from Billy Porter arriving in his golden regalia, to Zendaya’s very own glowing Cinderella story on the pink carpet, not to mention the four - count them, four! - outfits Lady Gaga brought to the pink carpet. However, the Rose family came in full force this evening, and left us feeling Divine.

“Expectations are always high for the Rose family when it comes to the Met gala, as Moira and Johnny Rose have been attending almost every year since the late 90’s, with Mrs. Rose even hosting the event once at the start of Ms. Wintour’s reign of the ball. No one will ever forget Mrs. Rose’s ensemble for last year’s theme; her ethereal, champagne dress with ostrich feathers and crystals on its own would have taken our breath away, but her matching it with such a headdress was a spectacularly bold move that has lodged itself into our minds forever. All eyes were on the House of Rose, and this year, like every year, they did not disappoint.

“The aforementioned strongholds arrived first. Moira Rose wore a deep red, heavily crystaled jumpsuit, with a golden dragon weaving around her body. It’s massive, embellished head rested gently on her shoulder, with the tail wrapping all the way down and around one leg. The jumpsuit had a long, willowy cape that trailed quite a few feet behind her. The queen of wigs didn’t disappoint with her hairpiece this evening, either, wearing a knee-length black wig, styled in loose curls with sparkling gemstones adorning the -do. Her husband matched her well, in a maroon, crushed velvet suit, accompanied by a large, tastefully jeweled shoulder piece on the opposite shoulder his wife’s dragon, so that they could stand together.

“When asked what ‘camp’ means to her, Mrs. Rose was very thoughtful and eloquent with her answer, as anyone could expect her to be. She said, ‘If one wants to know camp, one must look at the history of it. Camp was invented by people who were pressured by society to put themselves in a box. At all turns, the black, gay men and women that, I would say, invented this artistic expression were told that they could not be themselves. Camp is fighting back against those who wish you were someone else. Camp is expressing, with the utmost preposterous beauty, exactly who you are and how you feel without the fear of judgement. To celebrate them, those heroes, and to celebrate each other this evening, to be here to witness this is such an honor.’

“Their daughter arrived about a half hour later. In her day-to-day, Alexis Rose never skimps on the glam, making our best dressed lists more often than not, and she did not disappoint this evening. Her dress was a sculpted, architectural piece, reminiscent of a large butterfly, in shades of purple, periwinkle and peach. It tufted up and over her shoulder, curling above her head. She wore a gaudy headband, adorned with massive emeralds, with a matching bracelet. Her crystaled boots were in the same emerald hue. Her hair was in a tremendous plait, reaching down to her waist, with little emeralds embedded into the style, sparkling every time she moved her beautiful head.

“David Rose and his partner, Patrick Brewer, arrived later in the evening, just when we thought we’d seen it all. The couple came in coordinated looks. While they didn’t match or double up on any pieces, their outfits complimented each other, and were styled similarly.

“David wore a metallic, dark gray shirt with a nearly chin-height collar and huge, puffy sleeves, tucked into a floor-length black skirt. The skirt was belted, with a huge, embellished buckle right in the center. Over his shoulders was a long black cape, dusted with diffused crystals that got more concentrated as it carried down to the floor, like a haute disco ball around his feet. He had his arms through slits in the cape, to show off the sleeves of his shirt and the soft, black gloves he was wearing. His hair had sparkles in it, shimmering with every bob of his head. He towered over most of the guests, including his own partner, in golden platform boots that poked out from beneath his skirt as he walked.

“Patrick wore a long sleeved, black shirt with tiny blue polka dots, a cape of the same fabric coming down off one shoulder, wrapping around his arm before stopping at the knee. He paired it with blue, velvet trousers that came well above his waist, up to the ribs. He wore a pair of black gloves, too, but they were shinier than his partner’s. Atop his head was a black, tricorne hat with three large, bright blue plumes.

“While this is the boldest look anyone has seen Brewer in since his playing the villain in the second in the Cosmic Pandemic franchise, David’s look was quite tame - at least by Rose standards. David may have dressed more on theme than most of the men who arrived on the pink carpet, and he, of course, looked incredible, but we had expected more shimmer, more color, more- something. One might go so far as to say that David Rose was rather understated, at least for his own standard of fashion.

“This topic of David’s ensemble was brought up to he and Brewer during their pink carpet interviews. With a blinding smile towards Brewer, Rose said, ‘This is Patrick’s first Met, I didn’t want to upstage him too much.’

“It was no surprise to see Brewer in blue, as it has been his ongoing color scheme for many years, made plain by his recent album ‘Shades of Blue’. This was also brought up by interviewers on the carpet. Brewer ducked his head with a grin and a modest nod. ‘I couldn’t go too far out of my comfort zone,’ he joked. ‘But I figured, if I’m coming to the Met gala with David Rose, I should show up, right?’

“And show up he did. Tonight’s event has proven that Brewer can step up to the plate with Team Rose, which is not an easy feat for even the most chic of high society. If David Rose can bring something as extravagant as this out in someone as safely-dressed as Patrick Brewer, then he is someone to keep a close eye on.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Try not to go insane when I’m gone?” Patrick suggests over FaceTime. David is in the backseat of his car, being taken uptown for a photo shoot, and clawing at any spare second he can get with Patrick. Patrick, in David’s phone, is aboard his jet to go to the first set of his continental tour. He hasn’t taken off yet, having snuck in one last call before they’re in the air.

This is the longest they’ll have been apart since they met, a fact they both know, but haven’t actually discussed. They’ve been so caught up in all the excitement, in travel plans and set lists and preliminary events, they didn’t really get a chance to realize how much they’ll miss each other until now.

“I know it’ll be tough, but I think you’ll pull through,” Patrick continues, a mischievous smirk tugging on the corners of his lips.

David rolls his eyes and tries his hardest not to grin back at Patrick. “I did live alone in New York for many years before I met you,” he complains, but his voice is too light to be taken seriously. “I was just fine then, I’ll be just fine now, thanks so much.”

Patrick scrunches up his face. “Were you just fine, though?” He mocks David, the same way he’s been mocked so many times over the years of their relationship.

“Okay,” David accuses, but his grin fights through. Seeing David lose this particular battle with his own face makes Patrick smile right back at him, that warm-butter smile he gets with David. It’s distorted through the screen. The picture could never compare to the real thing, but David knows he’ll have to settle for this, at least for a while. “I’m about as likely to go insane as you are to party your fucking face off. Which might not sound like encouragement to have a face-melting rager on your tour bus every night, but it totally is.”

It’s Patrick’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, sure,” he scoffs, sarcasm lilting his voice. “I’ll party it up the whole time. Just- shwasted, the entire tour, right?”

David grins even wider. “Yeah, exactly,” he agrees. “Sounds like Usual Patrick Behavior to me.”

“I’m supposed to be working?” He reminds David, because they both know there’s no actual chance in hell that Patrick will spend every night he’s away from David fucked up beyond belief. That’s never been Patrick.

David grins at the image of Patrick on his phone. “Cute little thing,” he teases. “So focused. So work-oriented.”

“I’m trying to be a professional,” Patrick complains. David knows, they’ve had this conversation before, more than once.

“Well, lots of professionals in your field drink on the job,” David reasons. “Like, all of them. And they do a lot more than drink. Not that I’m advocating for your personal alcoholism or pill-popping, just-. You know, have a little fun. You’ve been working your ass off for well over a year now to release your album, and now you get to have your own little music parties with all of those adorable little lesbians in their little patterned, button down shirts who follow you religiously, all over the country, and I just think you deserve to enjoy it.”

Patrick has his distorted, fond look, that probably isn’t distorted in person, but doesn’t look right on screen, back on his face. “I will,” he promises. “Almost as much fun if you were coming with me.”

David’s nose turns upwards. “You will not catch me in any of your Midwest states,” he announces. “Fuck Minnesota.”

“Yeah, fuck Minnesota,” Julia agrees with him, sat in the seat beside him.

“Yeah, fuck Minnesota!” Sophia agrees, in the background of the FaceTime on David’s phone, to which David smirks at all ladies being Team David for this round.

“How many lesbians even live in Minnesota anyway?” David asks, mostly to himself. “There can’t possibly be that many, right?”

“Enough to sell out the venue,” Patrick comments, smirking to himself. He gets distracted and looks away, listening to someone. He smiles to whomever he’s talking to and thanks them with a nod. “They’re preparing for takeoff, so I’ve got to go.”

David nods and smiles. “Yeah, I think we’re pulling up soon,” he agrees. “Have a safe flight.”

“I’ll call you when I land,” Patrick promises. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” David says. He smiles at the image of Patrick, blowing him an obnoxious kiss through the camera. “Good luck tonight, honey!”

“It’s ‘break a leg’,” Patrick corrects just as David is hanging up.

David sighs to himself and sags into the seat of the car. His head tilts towards Julia, who looks at him out of the corner of her eye. She only needs a half a moment to observe him before her eyes go back to whatever email she’s constructing on his behalf. 

“Don’t start that shit yet,” she complains, her ever-dry voice low. “He hasn’t even left yet. They literally haven’t even gone down the runway and you’re already sighing like a goddamn Disney Prince.”

David’s smirk twists the corner of his mouth upwards. “Tell me how you really feel,” he teases her, knowing she’s more patient than she’s letting on. She’s been his assistant for too long at this point, they probably know each other too well.

“I’m just saying,” she says. “Keep it together now, so I don’t punch you in the face in three months.”

David chuckles, then looks out the tinted window at the city inching by. The next few months of his schedule are already jam-packed with work, with almost every minute already accounted for. He’s piled it on so that he doesn’t have a spare moment to think about how much he misses Patrick. They saw each other just a few short hours ago, they literally just hung up the phone, and David misses Patrick already. 

Definitely too clingy, he thinks, and not for the first time. His mind bounces to tender moments with Patrick, even before they were a couple. He bounces beyond that, to a time when he clung so hard to flames of the past, like any and all scraps of affection towards him were gifts beyond what he deserved. Patrick never makes him feel that way. He makes loving David seem like breathing, he makes David feel like walking on air. All the things in David that were too much or unsavory for anyone else are the things Patrick seems to love the most about him. That’s the difference, that’s why David doesn’t mind clinging so hard: Patrick clings right back, and they hold each other steady.

“Do you think I should ask him to marry me?” David asks, abruptly, turning to look at Julia.

“Oh my god,” she sighs, sagging into her seat and dropping her phone into her lap. She turns to look at him, exasperation apparent on her face. “Are you kidding me? He’s gone for ten minutes and you’re thinking about getting married? That punch in the face might have just moved up in the timeline.”

David gasps, his face scrunching up at her threat. “What, you don’t think it’s a good idea?” He asks, defensively. Though it’s the first inkling of an impulse, it feels right as it courses through his veins and settles into his bones.

“No, it’s probably in the top five ideas you’ve ever had.”

“You know, it’s getting really hard to tell when you’re being sarcastic,” he says.

“I’m not,” Julia says, pointedly. “If you want to propose, then do it. But don’t do it because you miss him five minutes after he leaves.”

David looks away, down to his lap. “I probably won’t,” he decides, quietly. “He’s done that whole thing before, anyway, and it’s not exactly like it was a fairytale. He probably won’t want to do it all over again.”

Julia stares at David, her brow furrowed. “You are so fucking stupid sometimes, you know that?” She tells him. “Obviously he wants to marry you.”

David’s eyes dart to her, sharp as tacks. “What makes you say that, exactly?” He asks, his voice accusatory, though he’s not actually accusing her of anything.

“The rest of us are subjected to the looks Patrick gives you when you’re not looking,” she says, her voice bored. Her eyes train back to her email, her thumbs tapping quickly. “It’s nauseating. He’s been the Other Mr. David Rose in his head since you snuck out of your gallery opening.”

Julia is many things; she’s tiny and brutal and can wear the shit out of a pair of leather pants, but a liar she is not. As dry as her tone is, and even though she pointedly refuses to look at David when she thinks he’s being an idiot, he still knows she’s being honest. She wouldn’t drop a bombshell like that if it weren’t true.

But before David can get caught up in that thought, the car pulls up to the shoot, and he’s ripped back into reality.

“Don’t dissolve into this,” Julia cuts in just before David gets too into his own head. “Put it on the back burner until you see his adorable dough face again. You don’t need to make yourself insane with that.”

David sighs deeply. “I wish I could erase the thought from my head,” he complains. “What was that thing from Men In Black called?”

“The Neuralyzer,” Julia supplies. She slides on her dark sunglasses, then lifts up her phone and snaps a picture with her flash on. David rolls his eyes, knowing what she was going for. “You are not a pathetic, hopeless man child, you do not already miss your boyfriend, you will go in there an out-pose your sister like your house had a schism.”

And, for some reason, her garbage pep-talk works. David takes in a steadying breath, then gets out of the car, sliding his own sunglasses on. He feels better when he goes inside and sees Alexis arrived before him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

October 3, 2019, From the Instagram Story of @davidrose.

3:19 AM: A selfie of David in bed. His crisp, white sheets are pulled up to his nose. His hair is inexplicably perfect. He’s added the text ‘how did i ever sleep alone ?? disgusting’

5:51 AM: A video of David’s ringed hand zipping up a suitcase. He’s pinned a Canadian flag to the corner, animatedly waving. In the opposite corner, he’s written, ‘impulsive? maybe.’

8:02 AM: A picture of the tarmac of a private airport, through the window of the Rose family jet.

10:11 AM: A photograph of a large sign in an airport, cast in black and white, that says ‘WELCOME TO TORONTO!’ in an arch. He’s written ‘i’m back, baby!’ in red with the praise hands emoji beside it.

11:45 AM: A video of Patrick and his production team entering the concert venue for this evening. They realize that someone is on the stage already, and then, Patrick realizes who is on the stage. He sucks in a breath. He politely excuses himself from his entourage and sprints down the aisle before the video abruptly cuts off.

12:37 PM: A short, audioless clip of Patrick and his band going through their sound check. It spans no more than three seconds, zooming quickly on Patrick’s face, who turns and looks right into the camera, as if on cue. He gives a bright smile as he strums his guitar, and the video cuts off.

12:58 PM: A picture of one of the many graphics that projects behind Patrick during his performance. This particular one is of a blue, spotted panther, that prowls the stage during the intro and the first song. It looks real, even up close, with incredible details shining through. David’s included the text ‘shit’s realistic, right?’

2:13 PM: A video of Patrick crossing a busy, city street to meet David on the other side with two cups of coffee in hand. He sticks his tongue out to the camera with a wide grin. “Fuck you, eh! Fuck you, Paparazzo! No picture!” He cries in a silly voice, which leaves the last second of the video a little shaky.

3:01 PM: An unflattering photograph of Patrick, mid bite of a forkful of poutine. David’s added the text, ‘a couple of canadian cliches’, and a geotag of the little hole in the wall they found in downtown Toronto.

4:54 PM: A selfie Patrick has taken on David’s phone, where Patrick is smiling, and David sleeping on Patrick’s shoulder. ‘Sorry, David will not be attending the m&g,’ Patrick writes, adding ‘sleepy baby’ in very small letters near the bottom.

9:06 PM: A video shot from the wings of the stage, of Patrick performing. He looks at ease before his audience, perfectly at home on stage, performing for thousands. It pans slightly to the right, showing the crowd, recording on their own phones and singling along loudly to Bright Lights. Pinned on top of where the audience is the phrase ‘LETS GO LESBIANS!!!’

10:47 PM: A video of Patrick, still from the wings of the stage. “I got a wonderful surprise today,” Patrick says into the microphone to the audience. “So, I’m retaliating with a surprise of my own. I have a few minutes, I wanna take a slight departure from the set do to a favorite of mine. I’d like to dedicate this number to someone very special in my life.” The audience screams, knowing exactly who he’s talking about.“David Rose,” Patrick supplies, unnecessarily. He looks at David and points at him in the wings. “Right over there-.” The video cuts off abruptly.

11:56 PM: A video from David’s front facing camera. He’s still a little misty-eyed, and his usually perfect hair is slightly disheveled. “If anyone was at Patrick’s concert tonight,” He says, one corner of his mouth twisting upwards as he speaks, “and happens to have good footage of that last song, I would love if you sent it to me. Not to be completely disgusting, but that was the most romantic thing that’s happened to me.” He addresses the last half of that sentence above the camera, to where Patrick is on the other side of his phone. David beams up at Patrick, and just before the clip cuts off, Patrick leans in over his phone to kiss David.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The day dragged its heels until this point. David had been under the impression that the last four months had every spare moment filled, but he was sorely misinformed. Today had proven him wrong.

Every time he’d thought he had a half a minute to take a breath, something else was being shoved into his hands. The gallery manager asked him the same five questions in roughly a thousand different words. The network for Rose Garden was contacting him about their Christmas special, even though he has requested every year to not be involved in the planning of any of it. He was sent a spread of a photo shoot Alexis had done and was asked his opinion. His mother called and spent twenty five minutes ranting about some anonymous hater picking apart the Crows franchise. Even Stevie dragged him away to complain about work over an early dinner, going so far as offering to pay for their meal.

By the time he’s arriving in front of his building, his brain aches with exhaustion and information overload. All he wants was to go upstairs, finish his leftover pizza, and FaceTime with Patrick. The tour is over, but Patrick has yet to come home. He’s due back by the weekend, which only seems to get further and further away with every passing day. Monday, it had felt like centuries. Now, on Thursday evening, Saturday feels like a millennia away. He thought the months of tour felt long, but they’re nothing compared to these last few days.

David gets out of the car and slams the door closed behind him. He takes a deep breath and sinks into the feeling that this marathon of a day is almost over, and the finish line is in view. Soon, it’ll be an acceptable time for him to crawl into bed, and then, it’ll be tomorrow, which is one day closer to Patrick than today. The car pulls away, and a sweet-faced girl in a blue shirt, brown jacket, and very nice shoes walks over.

“David?” She grabs his attention. He looks at her with expectant eyebrows, then gives her a polite smile. She reaches out and hands him a single red rose with a bright smile of her own.

“Thank you,” he says, surprised by the random gesture.

The girl’s smile gets wider as she nods and skitters away, waving as she goes. David waves back as she retreats, confusion coloring his face. “Okay,” he breathes to himself. He looks down at his rose, then starts towards the door.

The doorman gives David a smile as he opens the door for him, which isn’t abnormal, but he also hands David a rose, too, just like the one had given to him by the girl outside his car. He takes it, with a jerk of his head and a confused smile, then goes inside.

A walkway of rose petals trails across the lobby of David’s building, leading to the upper elevator, only used by penthouse residents. It makes David’s breath catch in his throat and his mind race. As he walks over the line of petals, three separate bystanders in the lobby hand him roses. He thanks them each, his heart pounding a little harder with every bloom handed to him. Then, as he reaches the elevator, the bellhop hands him one, too, as he holds the elevator door open for David.

Inside the elevator, there are roses attached to the walls, and a pile of petals at David’s feet. The elevator door closes, and he lets his grin split his face open. As the elevator takes him many stories upwards, David detaches the roses from the wall and admires all of his beautiful flowers together. He doesn’t want to hope. He doesn’t want to assume what he’s about to walk into. He wants to accept whatever is about to happen with grace and dignity. He doesn’t want to get let down by something less exciting than what he’s imagining. He wants. Good God, he wants so badly.

The doors ding back open, and the trail of petals resumes on David’s floor. He follows the flowered path to his door, which is unlocked, despite his having locked it on his way out this morning. He takes a breath, holds it for a moment as his hand touches the doorknob. Slowly, he releases his puff of air and lets himself into his apartment.

There are candles lit everywhere, helping his spacious apartment glow. The air smells sweet, with flowers and cookies and probably something horribly saccharine, like love. The windows that overlook the city outside showcase the sunset that casts the buildings in the skyline in tangerine against plum.

In the middle of the room is Patrick, down on one knee, with his trusty guitar in hand. He starts picking strings as David enters, smiling widely at David as soon as their eyes are locked. At the first chord, David is letting out a broken sob, slapping a hand over his mouth.

God, he’s missed Patrick. Their one day in Toronto a month and a half ago wasn’t nearly enough. David could hold himself together, for the most part, but he missed him. Nights alone were hard. Every time he walked past Patrick’s building, he missed him a little harder, which was unfortunately often. He’d missed him so much, and was entirely prepared to miss him for two more days, but he’s here, now. David doesn’t have to wait anymore. Patrick is really here, even if this feels a little bit like a fever dream.

Patrick, down on one knee, in the glowing light of a thousand candles, and a smile that only glows brighter, is the most incredible thing David has ever seen. He looks exhausted and rumpled, and so happy he could split at the seams, and so gorgeous it cuts through David in the most wonderful way. Heavy tears prick in David’s eyes at the surprise, too weighty to be blinked away; when he tries, they fall down onto his cheeks before Patrick can even start singing.

“I would give up everything,” Patrick sings, “Before I’d separate myself from you // After so much suffering // I finally found unvarnished truth.”

David recognizes the song within the first few words, which only makes his joyous sobs come harder. He’s frozen where he stands as he listens to his serenade, one hand covering his mouth, collecting tears, and the other carefully holding his precious namesake. His mind whizzes with impulsive, reactive thoughts. He wants to throw himself at Patrick to get him to stop playing. He wants to kiss his lips to swallow the lyrics. He wants to jump out the window to escape all the attention, even if it’s just them in this enormous, glowing apartment. He wants to melt into the floor, into this moment of their life, and never move past it, because his heart has never felt so full.

There are too many options. He opts for none of them, standing by the door like a dumbass while the best person he knows, the only person who matters, sings to him one of his favorite love songs.

“Thank God I found you,” Patrick croons, his face soft and warm with love. David never wants to look away. He wants to lose himself in this forever. “I was lost without you // My every wish and every dream // Somehow became reality // When you brought the sunlight // Completed my whole life // I'm overwhelmed with gratitude // ‘Cause baby I'm so thankful I found you.”

When Patrick finishes his song, when the final notes hang in the air and he’s pulling his guitar away from his body, David’s feet finally kick into gear. They slowly start to carry the rest of his body a few steps closer to Patrick, who is still down on one knee.

“Mariah?” David gasps, his voice breaking the single word with an elated sob.

Patrick’s lips twitch upwards in a fond smile as he gazes upon David for the first time in weeks. “I figured she’d help my case,” he says, his voice low and warm. “Inspire a positive answer to my question.”

It takes him a moment, but David is able to fall back into the playful give-and-take he’s always had with Patrick. He smirks a little as he sniffles and clears his throat, his feet slowly carrying him a few paces closer. “I don’t believe I was asked a question,” he prompts, already knowing what question he’s about to be asked.

Patrick sucks in a breath, obviously trying to steady himself for this. He smiles all the same, like he’s been looking foreword to this. “Before I met you, there was a big, gaping hole in my life, and I didn’t know it,” he says, as evenly as he can manage. David admires how in-control Patrick is in this moment, considering with every passing word, David is losing his shit a little more. “I could feel it swallowing me up slowly, a little more everyday. And then I met you, and you changed everything. You changed me. At least, you helped me find the man I’ve always wanted to be. I hated being away from you. I missed you, David. I missed you so much it made me sick. There were so many moments every single day that I wished you were with me. I never want to be without you for so long again. I want to spend every minute of my life with you. I want to follow you to every crazy art party and red carpet, and try new foods with you, and go to brunch with your family every weekend. I want to wake up beside you. I want to bring you coffee at the gallery every day. I want to write a million love songs for you. I want to be everything for you that you are to me. I want to work, every day, for the rest of my life, until you know. Until you feel exactly the same way I feel, the way you make me feel.”

David sucks in a shaky breath. He doesn’t totally recall exactly when he took his last; it must’ve been somewhere around ‘you changed me’. 

“I still haven’t heard a question,” David says, because he really can’t help himself. Even in the emotional highpoint of his life, David can’t help being a little shit, especially to Patrick.

Patrick grins up at David, because he loves it when David is a little shit. He reaches behind him without breaking eye contact to grab something. He reveals a long, black jewelry box, one that would normally have a bracelet in it. David’s brow furrows in confusion. He knows that they’re not a traditional relationship, a cringe-worthy thought, but he’s never heard of an engagement bracelet. Or, perhaps he’s read this wrong, somehow?

“David Rose,” Patrick breathes. “Will you marry me?”

He opens the box, and it’s not an engagement bracelet, nor is it an engagement ring. Instead of one, there are four beautiful, golden rings nestled in black velvet, winking up at their new owner in the glowing candlelight.

David is speechless at the sight. He’s not one to admit that he’s fantasized about getting married and having a real, adult life with a partner. He might not admit aloud to imagining the ring that would one day be presented to him, but he did, many times. He thought there was a precise image in his mind of his hypothetical engagement ring, but obviously he hadn’t been thinking clearly. What Patrick has presented him with goes above and beyond anything his puny child brain could’ve ever fathomed. Patrick knows David even better than David does, clearly. David’s eyes finally tear from the rings and to Patrick’s face. Patrick seems to like that gobsmacked expression on David’s face because it makes him smile even wider.

Four rings. He looks down at the four silver rings on his right hand. He’s happy to replace them with these golden ones. As David steps closer to him, Patrick stands and goes to meet him halfway. They crash into a messy kiss, wrapping up in each other. They have to pull away to catch their breath. Time and distance stretched the elastic that holds them together, and now they’re snapped right back into place. They hold each other tightly, Patrick turning his head to press a soft kiss to the side of David’s neck.

Slowly, they pull back, just to gaze upon each other for a moment. “Did Mariah work?” Patrick asks softly.

David lets out a breathless laugh. “Yes!” He sighs. “It’s a yes!” He cradles his hand around the back of Patrick’s head, pulling him in for a soft kiss. “I love you,” he breathes, just before their lips touch. He feels Patrick smile into his lips, which makes him beam right back into him.David kisses Patrick once more, then pulls him into a tight hug.

Their happiness bubbles out in little laughs, muffled into each other’s shoulders. They sway softly to the tune that lingers in the air around them, slotting back into each other after so long being apart. As good as this feels, to be in each other’s arms again after so long, they’re looking forward to never having to feel it again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“JUST MARRIED! Patrick Brewer and David Rose tie the knot!

“On Friday evening, at Hadley Park in Victoria, British Colombia, Hollywood Sweethearts, David Rose and Patrick Brewer got married. It was a small, intimate gathering on the gorgeous grounds, with just family and close friends accompanying them.

“There aren’t a lot of details on their nuptials, as the ceremony was so private. At one point, rumors floated around that the ceremony would be filmed for the finale of Rose Garden, but reps from the Rose family have denied this. No photos of the ceremony itself have been released as of yet, but the happy couple have both posted their official wedding pictures on their social media accounts, with David posting a few more he snapped during the reception.

“Alexis Rose, who acted as Best Woman for her brother, streamed the couple’s first dance to her Instagram Live feed. They swayed slowly on the dance floor together to Norah Jones’ Come Away With Me, whispering softly, their foreheads pressed together. In the video, the newlyweds look radiantly happy. Near the end of the song, after exchanging a few soft words, they wrapped their arms around each other, turning their dance into a swaying hug. Patrick kissed his new husband on the side of his neck as they sank into each other. When the song finished, their guests cheered loudly for them.

“Alexis also streamed Patrick giving a live performance of ‘David’s Song’, off of his recent album. It was stripped down to its barest bones, just Patrick and his guitar, singing for his new husband. David was smiling through the performance, tearing up when perfectly appropriate. After that, they carried on with an excellent party, celebrating their union to the very best of their ability.

“The happy couple is already on their honeymoon, having taken a flight out the day after their wedding to go to Italy for a romantic getaway. We wish them a long and very happy life together.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
